"Mother!" Felicite cries as she rushes into the chambers in which her mother resides, finding herself completely and utterly alone. "Mother, I've news, wonderful news-"
She glances around, confused.
The room is empty.
She cannot even find her mother's scent.
"Mother?" she calls again, searching throughout the chamber, but it is abandoned. "Lady Mother?"
She first seeks Gabriel, but he has no information for her. He offers to travel to Lady Margrithe's home to see if Anjolique has merely gone for a short stay. He assures her that all will be well and that he will locate her mother. She nods, thanking him, but she knows that something larger is at play, something more sinister.
Felicite finds only Lucien in Julien's audience chamber, speaking in hushed tones with Ambassador Scapon of Andalium.
"I beg pardon," she says, and the two men whirl to face her. Both sweep into overly-dramatic bows, and Felicite resists the urge to roll her eyes at their ridiculous display.
"Your Grace," Lucien says with a ridiculous smile plastered on his lips. "How may I be of service?"
"Where is my mother?" she demands.
"I've no idea," Lucien says with a nonchalant shrug. "Perhaps you should ask your husband."
"I would be glad to, if only I could find him. You seem to keep him quite busy, Lord Protector."
"I ask only that he perform his duties as King of the Three Kingdoms."
"You ask nothing of my husband. You take it," Felicite replies. "I ask you again, Lord Protector, where is my mother?"
"And I tell you again, Your Grace, that I've no idea. Ask your husband. He is king, is he not?"
Julien lounges in his throne, his crown falling over his eyes, and he looks as if he may die of boredom. He waves his hand to dismiss the petitioners before him irritably.
"Felicite!" he says as she enters his audience chamber. His face brightens. "A beautiful distraction, precisely what I need."
"Julien, where is my mother?"
Julien's eyes widen for the briefest of moment, then he redirects her question quickly. "Shall we go for a hunt? There are enough men here, I could have Killi organize a tournament. Hawking, perhaps? Or we could take a barge-"
"Julien! Where is my mother?"
"Tell them I will hear their petitions tomorrow," he tells the herald, who bows politely and closes the doors of the audience chamber. "Felicite, surely you have heard by now."
"Heard what?"
"Your mother has betrayed us," Julien replies. His eyes narrow and his voice rumbles with anger. "The pension that I ensured her, that I provide her, she has been sending to your brother Mariusz so that he can muster enough men to rise against me. To rise against us."
"That is not true!" Felicite shouts, her own anger rising. "My mother would never-"
"Oh, yes, she did," Julien says. "I've been intercepting her correspondence for weeks. It took a bit to decipher her code - she is a clever woman, if nothing else! - but we did, and were able to catch her in the act of treason."
"You will not execute her," Felicite says sharply. "You would not dare."
"No, I will not," Julien agrees, nodding. "I've sent her to the only place I deem appropriate for her. A nunnery."
"You will not keep me from my mother," Felicite shakes her head defiantly. "You will not. Especially not that you have taken my sister from me as well."
"I agreed that your sister can stay with you until our child is born," Julien says. "And you've no idea the negotiating that Lucien had to do to ensure even that was to Andalium's satisfaction. I am doing everything I can to make you happy, but I've still a kingdom to rule, Felicite."
"You cannot keep taking people I love from me! I need my mother, Julien!"
"And I need loyal subjects who are not mustering armies behind my back. Perhaps you do not mind if I die, Felicite, but at least demonstrate some compassion for our son. Whether you love me or hate me matters not, but his life is in danger. And if you truly believe your brother Mariusz will hesitate to remove Fionn from the line of succession - by any means necessary - than you have gone mad."
"You know, Your Grace, every time I believe that I could love you, you give me another reason to hate you."
"Lissy, please," Richard pleads. "I want to come out of here. I wish to see Mother. Can I not come to the castle with you? Can you not allow me my books, at least? I wish to study. I wish to meet my nephew, Prince Fionn."
"I am so sorry, Richard, but I've no say in such matters. Were it up to me, you would have your own household in my castle and you would grow to become a great lord with lands and titles of your own. But that power lies with my husband alone."
"I do not understand. Mariusz says that the king is your mate. Should he not honor your wishes, if he is truly your mate?"
"I ask him for nothing," Felicite replies with a sad shake of her head. "I must only wait for him to give. As his wife, I must be the one person who will not make demands of him."
"Why does he hate me so? I've done him no harm, Lissy."
"He does not hate you."
"Then why will he not let me go free? I will swear my fealty to him. I will be a stable boy or a kitchen boy if it please His Grace. I would never stand against my own nephew."
"But I would," Mariusz replies grimly. "And that is why you are here."
"You are here because you are an Agincourt prince," Felicite says. "And I shall find a way to free you, I promise you. But Mariusz, you must understand, I cannot support you if you make a claim to the throne. Even if I could turn against my husband - I cannot, so do not question me - I could not turn against Fionn. I could not put him aside for you. You were never going to be king, you know that as well as I. So I will not support you now, nor ever, if you continue down this road. I wish to see you free, Mariusz, I truly do, but I do not wish to be forced to choose between my brother and my son."
"I will not harm your children. They will have their own households. I will see them titled and granted lands, as is proper for the sons of the king's sister. You must believe me, Felicite."
"And where will their households be? In the castle? Or in the Tower?"
Mariusz sighs. "Felicite, your children are far from the most pressing concern I have at the moment."
"Did you know that you've no more money coming from Mother? Julien found her letters to you and there will be no more money. You've gotten Mother sent to a nunnery. I do not even know where she is, Mariusz."
"There is a plan in place should Mother's finances become compromised," Mariusz assures her.
"Not Lady Margrithe," she says miserably, shaking her head. "Please tell me that it is not our father's own sister helping in this coup against me?"
"Your mistake is thinking that this is personal, Sister. It is not personal. The Three Kingdoms will have an Agincourt king upon their throne-"
"Yes, of course they will, when Fionn is old enough to inherit the crown from his father."
"Fionn is half Fleming," Mariusz reminds her. "Not Agincourt. Not like us."
"Fionn is the Prince of the Three Kingdoms and will be your king."
"Then I see, Sister, that we can no longer find common ground. Go back to your Fleming king and bear him half-noble children. And wait. I shall be more merciful to you than you have been to us."
"You promised, Mariusz," Felicite pleads through tear filled eyes. "You promised when you met Fionn that you would not come against us."
"And I meant it," Mariusz says. "I will not come against you and your children. It is only Julien I want."
"If you are to come against my husband, than you come against me," she says. "If you make me choose, you will not like my decision."
"If you do not stand with me, then you are against me," Mariusz says harshly. "And you are no longer my sister."
"I ask you one more time, no, I beg you...please, for the love you bear me, please see reason."
"And I ask you the same thing," Mariusz says. "So it seems we are at a stalemate."
Julien is standing on the dock when the ferryman returns Felicite across the river. The ferryman has a look of terror in his eyes, even when Julien tosses him a coin for her fare and reaches out to help Felicite from the boat himself, and when the king dismisses him, the man utterly abandons her, alone with her very angry husband.
Before she can thank Julien for his assistance - her manners never fail her, despite her anger - he turns from her and begins to ascend the stairs, his pace much too quick for her to match.
"Even you!" he says suddenly, spinning to point an accusing finger. "Even you. My own wife. My own mate. My queen. The rest of them, I can bear. I can take their treason. But you...you...I have not the words to describe the pain your treason causes me."
"I've committed no act of treason, Your Grace," she says. There are tears in her voice, but there is anger at his accusation in equal measure.
"Then explain to me why you have taken a ferry unaccompanied to visit traitors in the Tower?"
"They are my brothers," she says, bowing her head reluctantly. "And no matter what they have done, I still love them. I still wish for their health and happiness. I will not abandon them, Julien, not now. Not when they need me."
"And what did you learn from your visit?"
"That I cannot sway Mariusz from the path he has chosen," she admits. "That he will come against us."
"Us?"
"You, me, and Fionn. The child who grows in my womb, if it is a boy. The new royal family."
"Our family? You choose our family over your own Agincourt blood?"
"Of course I do, Julien! No matter what happens, no matter how we feel about one another, Fionn puts me on your side forever. I cannot stand against him, and that means that I cannot stand against you."
Julien says nothing, only leveling his cold, calculating gaze on her.
"If you do not trust me, Julien, then we have nothing," she says, pushing past him and hurrying up the stairs. She wipes furiously at her tears before she turns back to face him once more. "You and Fionn are my family now. You are all I have. If you will not trust me..."
"Your Grace," Shimara curtsies as Felicite struggles to concentrate on the letter she is writing. "Your Aunt has come."
"See her in at once," Felicite insists, rising from her writing table. "Lady Margrithe!"
"Your Grace," Margrithe sweets a deep curtsy, but Felicite pushes past her, throwing herself into the embrace of her aunt.
"It is so good to see you. I have been so utterly alone."
"Oh, Felicite," Margrithe wipes at Felicite's tears. "Sweet girl, how proud I am of you. And look at you! A prince in the nursery and another soon to join him!" Margrithe rests her hand on Felicite's growing womb. "You've exceeded our expectations."
"I do not know what to do," Felicite admits. "My brothers-"
"Felicite, you must trust me. You must stay away from them, for now. Mariusz has dug in his heels, and he is beyond your help. The situation will work itself out, so long as you know what you must do and when you must do it."
"What does that mean?" Felicite says, exasperated.
Margrithe smiles. "There is enough of Anjolique in you to know what must be done and when. There is enough of Remy in you to do it. Do not worry about that. All you must do is remember the gifts a queen has been given. You can sway Julien. I've every confidence in you. Now, I should wish to see my grand-nephew. Take me to the nursery."
Felicite does not dine with Julien that evening, despite his request; instead, she and Lady Margrithe take their supper together in Felicite's private chamber. They dine on roasted root vegetables and venison and sip honeyed wine, and for dessert, they enjoy Felicite's favorite, sugared plums. Felicite forgets her worries for the time, enjoying the visit with her beloved aunt.
"I am so impressed with our little prince," Margrithe says warmly. "He is healthy and strong, handsome. Smart as a whip, you can see it in his eyes. He is going to be the king for whom we have prayed to the Ancestors."
They sit for a long while in companionable silence, Felicite grateful for a friendly face amidst all her loss and her growing list of enemies.
"I thought I would find joy in discovering Father alive, but the truth is, it causes me more distress to see him locked in a cage than to have thought him dead. At least there is honor in death; if he dies a prisoner..."
"Come, now. It will take more than a prison cell in the Tower to destroy Remy the Fourth," Margrithe says, patting Felicite's hand.
"But Mother is gone. Sent to a human nunnery for conspiring against my husband."
"Your mother made her own choices," Margrithe says. "You can do nothing about them. I warned her about conspiring. I warned her of Mariusz's arrogance. I warned her of the consequences of her actions, and she is fortunate to have escaped with her head. This is a gift from your husband. He cannot abide a traitor residing in the household of his wife, and would have been within his rights to execute her. He did not. He removed her to a place where she can still hold court as if she is queen once more. She lives. And he did that for you."
"But Dulce-"
"Surely you knew he would be required to use her to sweeten an alliance? You cannot be that naive, my girl."
"But certainly not so soon!"
"She is of age," Margrithe shrugs. "Do you not like the suitor?"
"No," Felicite shakes her head. "I remember him from childhood."
"If you wish to keep her safe, then you must place a spy in her household, who will remain unseen by the Andals, but will report truthfully to you. This spy will become more valuable than gold. These are things you must learn to think of for yourself, Felicite. You must have someone to look after your assets. Protect your interests."
"I do not know who I can trust," Felicite admits.
"Your ladies, do you trust them?"
"Yes, of course."
"A trustworthy lady makes a fine wedding gift," Margrithe says with a smile.
"Indeed."
Shouting across the river wakes Felicite with a jolt. She hurries to her balcony, wrapping her night robe around her for warmth.
The blood drains from her face as she sees the source of the chaotic shouting.
The Tower is on fire.
But there are more shouts from the courtyard of the castle, and these chill her even more.
"They approach! Enemies approach!"
Before she can fully comprehend what is happening outside the castle walls, Julien appears in her bedchamber. He is carrying Fionn in his arms.
"Felicite, you must take Fionn and seek sanctuary in the Abbey of Allium. Dulce will accompany you and I will send Gabriel as well. You must stay there until I return for you. Please do not argue," he holds up a hand to stop her questions before she can ask them. "Do as I say, now, please, Wife. I cannot bear the thought of something happening to any of you," he says. He wraps an arm around her waist and draws her against him, kissing her tenderly for a brief moment.
Sanctuary.
Her blood runs cold at the thought. Her hand drifts to her womb, and a vision flashes before her eyes, a premonition that this child may be born in the nightmare of sanctuary. Both Dulce and Richard were born in sanctuary, she recalls. A miserable, lonely childbirth, with no one to assist if things go badly.
"I love you, Felicite."
She nods, gulping as she gazes up at him. She lifts her hand to stroke his cheek; her anger toward him, her frustration and heartbreak, are gone at the thought of losing him. "Do not die, Julien."
Julien nods, taking her hand in his own and raising it to his lips. "If anything should happen..."
"Do not speak of it," she replies, shaking her head. "I cannot bear it."
"I will die beside you in our bed, an old man, our lives well-lived and our children grown," the coldness usually so clear in his eyes is replaced with something else now, a combination of sadness, of worry, of fear.
Killian is waiting in her audience chamber with a tearful Dulce beside him. Dulce puts on a brave face as she takes Fionn in her arms.
"Do not worry, Prince Fionn, for there is nothing to fear. Your father and your uncle are going to keep your kingdom safe for you, and for all of us, and they are going to return to us in triumph."
Felicite manages a smile at Dulce's bravery.
"Julien?" Dulce turns to the king, bouncing Fionn in her arms. "When you capture my brothers...you will kill them?"
"I will do what I must," Julien says. "They give me no choice."
"You will spare Richard, though? Certainly you can see that this plot is not of his design."
"Go, now, and take care of my wife and my sons, Dulce," Julien replies.
Killian gestures toward the passageway through which Julien has entered Felicite's bedchamber.
"We will take the secret passageways. We do not know if he has spies inside the castle," Killian explains, opening the door for them. He hands a glowing lantern to Felicite, who steps inside, only looking backward once at Julien before Killian leads her into the darkness.
"He, who?" Felicite asks Killian as he guides them.
Killian remains silent.
"Who, Killi?" she insists.
"We cannot say for certain," he admits. "But they have raised the standard of the bear."
"Oh," Felicite whispers.
"How long will we be in sanctuary?" Dulce asks Killian. "I hope it is not long."
"It depends entirely upon if we are able to drive them out of Ravaenna," Killian says. "I hope not long, but...I cannot say."
"You will be careful, won't you, Prince Killian?" Dulce asks, the tone of her voice indicating that any previous rift between them is forgotten.
"I am always careful," Killi says, flashing the grin he is so known for, sure of himself.
"Come back to me," Dulce says, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Promise me."
"A warrior never promises his return," Killian says. "But I will promise that I will do everything in my power to return to you."
"Be safe, Killi," Felicite says, kissing his cheek. "And keep Julien safe."
"On my honor," Killian says seriously, kneeling briefly to kiss her hand. "Your Grace," he bows to Felicite, kisses Dulce's cheek, holds Fionn tightly for a brief moment, and then he disappears, leaving them hopelessly frightened and terribly alone.